The early years of William the Bloody
by Richard Bachman
Summary: COMPLETED.This is a journal entry made by Spike back in his old William days. William describes the events around his turning.
1. Part I

This is a short story I've written in the form of a journal entry made by Spike in his old William days. I cut this story into three separate parts because of the length. Part II will be up on Wednesday the 28th and the last part on Friday the 30th of august. Please do let me know what you think of it. Reviews are much appreciated and keeps me writing.  
  
  
  
  
  
Special thanks to my dear beta-reader and trusted muse Olga, without her I won't be sitting here trying to finish a story at three o'clock in the morning. Thanks for keeping me motivated!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The early years of William the Bloody  
  
  
  
Blood, sex and eternity  
  
  
  
A CHANGE OF SCENES  
  
  
  
By Richard Bachman  
  
  
  
  
  
16 April 1880 - London  
  
I don't know the reason why I decided to pick up a pen and start writing about my most recent experiences - experiences so very horrific and so alien to this world that I could hardly believe that they had truly happened at all. Perhaps it's one of those old habits one has that die with difficulty; I was drawn to cast my thoughts on paper so many times in the past because of my unwillingness to talk to others, that the routine remains even after my death.  
  
Death? Yes, death! For I'm as deceased as mister Charles Dickens, although possibly not quite in the same way as my most beloved author. He might have found eternal rest in his grave at a respectable age of 58, but I myself doubt I will ever be allowed such peace.  
  
I believe I have sealed a pact with the devil.  
  
I should start at the beginning of this gruesome tale. Three nights before, I attended a party given by the wealthy and well respected Russell family whose lady of the house has invited me in to entertain her guests with my recent work of writing. Since my departure from the clinic (they finally proclaimed me cured after an agitating long period of two years. During that time, I hardly managed to keep myself from losing my mind, such terrible conditions prevailed in those so called health institutions, and they treated their patients in such a degrading and terrible manner, that it gives rise to panic and anger in me, just by recollecting my involuntary stay) I have been living with my uncle Henry and his family, which consisted of my nephew Jonathan and my sweet little niece Dorothy, who shared the same name with her mother, my beloved aunt Dorothy. They were kind, God fearing people, who despite of the wicked tongues and scorning looks of others took their troubled cousin into their home. Uncle Henry himself looked after me like a father and have encouraged me to continue with my writings, a practice I had picked up during my stay in the clinic, since the tedious days behind those padded walls would have been even more unbearable if I had not found something to do in my incarceration. There were no other means of distraction allowed, no books, no music, not even the possibility of a humane conversation between doctor and patient, for those self-righteous men treated me like I was nothing but dirt and they were above us all, for only they knew what was best for the patients. But I assure you, it wasn't the dreadful cold and hot water treatment that they had subdued me to, nor the endless days in the isolation cell in which they have chained me to the wall like a bloody animal that has eventually cured me from my ill state of mind. It was the rare kindness of a visitor who took pity on me and provided me with a simple pencil and sheets of blank paper, which truly had saved me. Without those, there would have been no possibility for me to put my haunting recollections behind and my mental state would have eventually deteriorated till there was absolutely nothing left of my sanity.  
  
However, I'm straying off from the purpose of my writing, which was to tell how I got myself lost in this horrible nightmare.  
  
The Russells had invited almost every elite citizen of town. The lady of the house has certainly taken every effort to make their social gathering a memorable one. The guest-list must have counted more then a hundred souls, all tended well for by the servants, who seemed to be almost everywhere, serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres, before the banquet was to start at eight. The most beautiful ladies of wealth were attending, dressed in their fashionable dresses of laces and fine silks, many of them accompanied by their husbands or fiancés, important factory owners or successful business men whose fortunes kept the chimneys of the city burning.  
  
I was there to amuse those men and women, to read from my work later that evening after diner when the guests will be retreating in the ballroom. That chamber was so impressively grand and luxuriantly decorated that it made me feel like an insignificant insect that came straight from the gutters of the back streets of the Eastend when I first entered it in Misses Russell's company. I was already quite nervous to give a performance to this influential audience, and now I had to give my recital in such an overwhelming setting! I felt fluttering in my stomach even well before the banquet had started.  
  
Yet, as it finally turned out, I needn't have been anxious, for I would never set foot in the Russell's ballroom ever again.  
  
I had barely arrived for more then an hour, when I caught ear that Cecily Adams, the beautiful daughter of the banker Charles Adams, was also attending the party and was currently refreshing herself in the guest's quarters. I believed that my nervousness had just tripled after hearing the news. Cecily was the girl who had stolen my heart. Her brown doe-like eyes, her cascade of chestnut hair, her red ruby lips and her milky tan crowned with cherry blushes, everything about her was so perfect as if she was the goddess Venus herself! I loved her, even though I had barely exchanged two words with her ever since the first time we met. She reminded me of someone, someone I had once loved so dearly that it hurts my heart just to look at Cecily, for her striking resemblance struck me with painful memories. Still, my eyes couldn't stop doing so, for her presence also filled me with a sense of hope, provided a light at the end of a dark tunnel in which I seemed to have become lost for so long.  
  
Perhaps I could still find happiness without my beloved Nina.  
  
Transfixed by the knowledge of her presence, I hurried to the parlour, where I knew most of the guests were gathered for a musical performance by one of the city's most revered and talented ensembles. I expected that Cecily would make her entrance as soon as she came back from the dressing rooms. Quietly, I took a seat in a small corner of the chamber, close to the Victorian windows, curtains of which were shut to keep inappropriate individuals (read the hungry and the poor) from staring into this decadent get-together of London's rich and powerful. With an unsteady hand I took my pen and paper out of my pockets and scribbled a poem down on the empty sheets that had to translate the way Cecily Adams had conquered my heart and mind. The words didn't come out easily, as they should in good writing, and I frequently had to pause to find the perfect phrase, one that could captured all of my adoration for this striking lady. Dear God in heaven, I even asked the butler to aid me in my quest! I haven't even finished my poem yet when my Goddess descended down the staircase, her appearance even more magnificent than I could remember, her dress maiden white, her lush hair tied into a fashionable knot, decorated with fresh spring flowers. On feeble legs, I got up from my seat and staggered towards her. I had to speak to her tonight! No matter how many crowds of handsome and ridiculously wealthy bachelors she drew with her radiant presence, I had to let her know that I, William Byron, existed, and had become a captive of her beauty and charm.  
  
I only had eyes for her, and that was what eventually had spelled my doom.  
  
Cecily was in the company of Miss Priscilla Schnubly, whose features could only be described as handsome, not beautiful for there was hardly any femininity in her appearance. She was infamous for her scandalous tongue, and her fiancée who had accompanied her that evening, Sir Steven Rathbone, was no different then she in his chitchatting ways. Good Heavens, you might expect that the gent had something better to do then to spread harmful words about others all day like a gossiping fishwife!  
  
There were also others present, but I shall not waste my ink on mentioning them, for it was because of the cruel tongues of those two evil hearted vixens that my expression of love for Celily was publicly ridiculed, and made into the joke of the town. It happened during a casual conversation, a social necessity really, rather then an enjoyable exchange. Rathbone suddenly snatched my newest writing right out of my hands while I was distracted by one of Cecily's bewitching smiles. I tried to attain it back from him, but it was already too late. Smudging the inks as he crudely handled it, his pompous features flushed with glee, he cleared his throat noisily to draw attention, and started to read my poem aloud.  
  
"My heart expands; Tis grown a bulge in it, Inspired by your beauty. Effulgent."  
  
"Effulgent?"  
  
A terrible laughter rose up from his audience. How that spirited mocking had vexed me! My work was dragged through the gutter by this horrible man, the words I had written for my heart's desire only, reviled to the public and then, ridiculed by the whole aristocratic society of London! But the worst was yet to come, for my beloved Cecily was absolutely shaken by the turn of evens and, with an accusing glance directed towards me, excused herself from these vulgarians. It was never my intention to upset her with this avowal of my love. I decided I needed to speak with her at once to put her at ease and secure the good lady of my noble intentions. Anxiously, I snatched the now useless piece of paper out of my tormentor's hand and followed after her to a secluded part of the parlour.  
  
How angry and heartbroken I was, once directly after my tender confession of my secrete love for her, the self-righteous woman rejected me and said in her own words that I was beneath her, and was not worthy to receive any of her love! I was stunned, and watched with hollow eyes how Cecily fled, once again, out of my reach and joined back with the crowd of guests, who had recently scorned me.  
  
Before the diner started, I fled out of the Russell family's grand residence and into the dark streets of London.  
  
I ripped the hated poem that had led to my dear Cecily's refusal and the shattering of all of my hopes into rigorous pieces. Blinded by tears and unaware of my steps, I collided with a broad shouldered gentleman, and all the pieces dropped out of my hand, drifting away on the cool evening air in a cloud of shattered white.  
  
In my misery I had forgotten all about my good manners, and instead of excusing myself, I snapped at the tall man, warning him to watch out where he was going in an annoyed voice. I looked up unintentionally, and caught a glimpse of his face in the dim glow that was provided by the city's streetlights. Brooding eyes met mine, dark like rain clouds and chillingly empty as if though they housed no soul. He was so close that I could smell him, a strong scent of Whiskey and gin, mixed with the scent of freshly ploughed, damp earth.  
  
His presence puzzled my mind and filled my heart with horror.  
  
Lowering my eyes immediately, I stepped away from the dark stranger in a dash, my memories oddly stirred by this encounter, and fled into the nearest alley.  
  
With the deepest of revulsion, I realized then, that I knew him.  
  
This entire scene that played out before my eyes, the cool spring night, the warm scent of liquor and fresh graves on the tall stranger, even my retreat into this dead end alley with bales of wet hay staked up in the corner was familiar to me. I've seen it before. I've been in this place before, sitting here, dressed in my immaculate clean suit while my face was stained by salty tears, waiting for what was destined to happen, unable to change the horrific events that was about to befall on me. The delusions I suffered, which had sentenced me to two years of torture in that horrible asylum (There, I said it! I won't deny it to any further extent, what use will it be. As if my family's reputation matters any longer!), the terrible nightmares I've grown used to after my mother's horrible death, they were all about to become true.  
  
Soon, the soft, luring voice of a woman attracted my attention. Dazed as I still was, unable to distinguish between dream and reality (Am I truly here, and about to receive death by her hands or am I still in the asylum, restrained in my soiled straightjacket and drooling against the padded walls of my cell like the pitiable lunatic I had finally become?), I offered little resistance as the raven haired beauty placed her hand over my chest and lulled me into her spell with words, so very kind that it warmed my heart with every syllable, offering me a sea of compassion and love, a love that was eternal.  
  
This might sound unbelievable, preposterous even when considered with a clear and rational mind, but I could have sworn that the bewitching lady who had presented herself to me could read my thoughts and could reach me with her mind. Her voice sprang into my subconscious, charming like a cobra, black as night. Slowly she seduced me, spilling dark promises, like no other woman had ever bargained for my soul before.  
  
We all get hurt by love  
  
  
  
And we all have a cross to bear  
  
But in the name of understanding  
  
Your sorrows should be shared  
  
"Walk with me." She whispered, not in words but in contemplation. Her lips barely moved as her message reached me.  
  
I wasn't afraid any longer of what was going to happen. How could I be? As long as this dark Goddess was watching over me, sharing her existence and her heart as she now solemnly pledged, how could I fear this gift she was offering?  
  
Why should I deny myself this merciful end to my useless and miserable life?  
  
Her beautiful features twisted, transforming into hideous malformations. Her eyes, once large and innocent, were now narrow slits and looked predatory, with an unnatural yellow glow that reminded me of hungry wolfs. But her gruesome face didn't startle me, for I had seen it before in my visions, and tonight my frightened heart finally made peace with the demon. Fascinated, I observed her, and was taken by the crude beauty of this beast that she had become, and wondered why I had been afraid for so long.  
  
I gasped in surprise as she leaned over, her lush hair brushing over my skin, and sank her fangs into my flesh. They cut in me like knives and I howled as the pain intensified. My head became light while she drained me, feeding on my blood like a hungry calf suckling on its mother's milk. My hands wandered, searching for support as I felt the strength in my legs yielding. Finally, my weakened body collapsed on the ground. While the creature kept feeding on me relentlessly, I heard the cluttering of metal on the cobbles. Reaching out, my right hand toughed the cold surface of a small object that had fallen out of my pockets during the turmoil.  
  
Nina's lighter.  
  
Suddenly, the serenity that had clouded my judgement disappeared as shadows for the radiance of the sun, my secret longing for death chased away by Nina's precious memories and the promise I've once made to her. I clasped my fingers around the lighter, drawing strength out of her talisman and screamed for help. Even with the little bit of breath that was left in me I shouted loud enough to startle the dark creature, who abruptly stopped with her feeding. She eyed at me, panic carved into her demonic features. Trembling, she lifted a finger and hushed like a frightened little child.  
  
"Hush now! Don't -Don't scream! I can't help you when you're such a naughty, naughty little boy!!"  
  
I stammered that I didn't want her help, pushed the lighter on the skin of her cheeks and ignited it. The creature caught fire immediately, and her face became a horrific mask of blazing heat. Twisting her body in great agony, she staggered away from me. There was a trough filled to the rim with water for the horses standing nearby, and the mad, burning creature plunged her head into it in an effort to save herself. The flames extinguished with a sickening sizzling sound, and the air filled with the smell of burnt flesh and seared hair. She fell and landed on her back, soiling her pretty dress with dark mud stains. Then, as if she knew without having seen her reflection how repulsive she looked with the terrible burns ruining her face, she screamed, the sound high pitched and crazed, loud enough to draw the attention of anyone passing by in the nearby street.  
  
Crawling away from her, my skin tinkling while the hairs at the back of my neck stood straight up, I caught eye of the horrific creature that sat huddled in the corner of the dark alley, crying and mumbling madly to herself while she clawed at her burnt face, tearing her blackened cheeks open and spilling drops of blood over her scorched skin.  
  
My stomach heaved at the thought that I had nearly surrendered myself to this hideous monster. Staggering back to my feet, with the wetness gushing out of the wound at the side my neck reminding me of how fast my life was slipping away between my blood stained fingers, I stumbled towards the safety of the open streets. I needed help. I needed to be saved.  
  
I wanted to live.  
  
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Next part will be posted on Wednesday the 28th of august. Meanwhile, please let me know what you think of the story so far and provide some feedback. 


	2. Part II

The early years of William the Bloody  
  
  
  
Blood, sex and eternity  
  
  
  
A CHANGE OF SCENES (Part II)  
  
  
  
By Richard Bachman  
  
  
  
A shadow crossed my path. Sullenly, I gazed up and saw the broad and tall form of a man standing at the end of the alley, blocking my way out. His face was hidden from me by darkness, but I already knew with dreadful certainty who that man was.  
  
Slowly, he approached me, a malicious lion closing in on a puny little mouse, with a beautiful blond woman, dressed like an aristocrat, her eyes cruel and cold, on his arm. She took one look at the creature who had tried to seduce me, and her lips drew into a wicked pitiless grin.  
  
"Look what this idiot has done to your precious childe. I told you that we should keep her from wandering off on her own."  
  
She strode over to girl, and knelt down beside her. The blond woman's hand reached out and touched the red burns on her skin. Although her touch seemed to be gentle and considerate, I clearly remembered my Sire to shudder in response, as if she was afraid of her dark companion.  
  
"This," And the blond turned my Sire's face to show it to him, " is going to need time to heal. In the meantime, I rather won't be seen with her in public."  
  
I was about to collapse and lose consciousness altogether, my tired form swaying unsteadily on my feet, when an intense pain exploded on the back of my head. I heard my skull crack under the ferocity of that blow. My trashed body fell on the cobbles, my fingers trembling while I tried to keep the oozing wound in my neck covered to prevent myself from bleeding to death.  
  
A rough hand turned me around to face my attacker. His grim eyes were burning with rage. The smell of strong liquor on him had almost vanished, or rather was fully submerged by the thick stench of tombs that lingered all around him. The scent of death.  
  
My death.  
  
"You insolent little worm! Nobody touches what is mine!!"  
  
He hit me in my face and chest repeatedly till I could feel the blood dripping out of every burst welt or cut bruise. More dead then alive as I was, he hauled me from the ground and tossed me against the stone walls, roaring like an enraged beast.  
  
I broke every bone that wasn't broken yet, and hit the ground behind a pile of hay. My spirit shattered and my mind maddened by the intense pain my body had to endure, I pleaded desperately to anyone who could respond to my prayers to quickly put an end to my suffering.  
  
His dark shadow travelled over the wall behind me, and swallowed me in its darkness.  
  
"Daddy, don't you kill him!" It was that luring feminine voice again of the creature that I had so brutally scorned." I want him! I want to make him mine!"  
  
"Look what the scum has done t' ye!" The vicious man snapped back in response. "This pesky excuse for a human shouldna even be allowed a chance t' continue with his miserable life. I would be a complete fool t' let ye pass our bloodline down t' him!!"  
  
"No, you don't understand daddy, I need him! I saw what will become of us all and I need him! You need him! Please, don't kill him."  
  
Her voice trembled and sounded very small, like the voice of a child, but she also appeared to be lucid. Her words were determined, as if she knew for certain that she spoke the truth.  
  
"If you love me daddy." She whispered. "If you truly love me and wish me well, then let him live. Let him become one of us and let me dress him in a long black leather coat."  
  
I would have anticipated, perhaps even desired, that he wouldn't give in to her mad pleads and end my life just the same. But instead of offering me eternal peace, he grabbed me by my broken limps and dragged me further away from the open streets and deeper into the darkness of the alley. Being reduced into a whimpering pile of blood, shattered bones and torn flesh, I was hardly lucid enough to realize what these demonic creatures were doing to me. My head was lifted and the world turned before my eyes, before they allowed me to rest again upon something soft and cool. A cold, blistered hand touched me gently, wiping the sweat, tears and blood out of my eyes.  
  
He loomed over me, his appearance becoming hazy as my sight declined. I yelped like a beaten dog and retched blood. My lungs seemed to be filled with fluids and my breathing was loud, carrying frightening sounds as if I was drowning.  
  
She didn't have a lot of time left to save me.  
  
"He doesn't look like a lot of worth to me. His blood." He took a sniff in the air, only bending over me slightly. "His blood smells wrong, sickly even. This one is weak, even before I thrashed him. Ye can do better, childe. Are you certain Ye're not just a wee bit lonely and in need of a playmate Drusilla? Because if ye are, Yer GrandSire and I could easily."  
  
"I want him daddy. Him, and nobody else. Only he is predestined to be my love. Intended as it is written in the stars."  
  
Her fingers, delicate and soft although her skin was red and swollen, traced my cheeks ever so tenderly. Once again, my Sire spoke to me, soundless without even the faintest movements of her lips. Everything I had done to her, the pain I had caused her by burning her so horribly, it was behind us now. It was forgiven.  
  
"We all get hurt by the ones we love. You should know that better than I do, William."  
  
Her touch slipped away, leaving me terribly cold and empty. I wanted to cry out and beg her not to leave me all by myself. I have been foolish, ignorant and callous. I should have never rejected her love, like Cecily had so cruelly rejected mine. Indeed, I should have known better.  
  
A cut savaged my throat. I panicked, my legs quivering wildly, like a hanged man kicking in the air at the gallows, while life flowed out of my useless body and spilled over the cobbles. Her cold hands folded over mine as if she wanted to provide comfort and reassure me that death won't be the end of my existence.  
  
Just before my last breath was drawn, she bit open her wrist and offered it to me, letting her precious blood trickle down on my cold dry lips.  
  
As soon as I tasted it, I longed for more.  
  
I closed my mouth around her wound. Hesitatingly first, I drank the coppery fluid, letting its warmth spread through my cold body and replace what was left of my own blood. My wavering intake escalated quickly into a feverous suckling, as her blood induced a burning thirst in me that seemed to worsen with every drop I drank.  
  
When she withdrew her wonderful gift, a sense of calm descended upon me, wrapping my painful body into a weightless, numbing blanket. I smiled peacefully, while my eyes wept tears of gratitude for her forgiveness and generosity. Then, finally, I allowed the darkness to take me in.  
  
I awoke cold and stiff, my body tied down by invisible ropes. My eyes opened, but I could see nothing but darkness. The smell of fresh pinewood and earth lingered in stagnant humid air. I blinked, not sure if I was still wearing my glasses, but noticed nonetheless that my sight was returning rapidly. Outlines of my surroundings formed, followed by colours, first too dark to distinguish from monotonous shades of grey, but growing stronger, becoming more distinct with every second that past, till red was truly red and white was absolutely white. I couldn't remember to ever have seen these colours so intensely blossoming in total darkness.  
  
My head rested on a cold smooth pillow, my body confined into a small claustrophobic space lined with soft crimson padding. For a moment I feared I was back in the asylum, tied down to the dirty floor with chains and manacles, deprived from every human contact and locked away in endless darkness. Tentatively, I raised my hands and explored my tiny prison. My fingers touched a sealed lid. I pressed upon it, ridiculously gently first, as if I was afraid that I might damage it. But soon, as I realized that I was locked inside, panic seized my hands, and I pounded on the closed structure, pounded on it till the wood split and my knuckles started to bleed. Finally, I bashed my fists through the roof, and gasped in surprise when mounts of dark soil fell on my chest. Cold earth slid through my clothes, clogged my ears and muffled my voice. I screamed desperately for help as I was buried alive underneath this deadly weight, but my pleads transformed into throttled noises as the black substance filled my mouth and nostrils, obstructing my airways.  
  
Gasping for air (I know now that I don't need it anymore, but at that particular moment, in my ignorance, a breath of air seemed absolutely vital) I struggled out of my confinement, clawing upward with a vigorous strength that I've never known my weak body possessed. My fingers became raw with mixing my blood into the dirt, as I ploughed my way out of that suffocating darkness.  
  
At last I broke the surface. Trembling and soiled, I pulled myself out of the pit of loose earth that shifted and slid away underneath me as if it wanted to swallow up me again. Spitting out the repulsive taste of dead moss while trying to calm down my wheezing breath, I dropped on a patch of grass, absolutely exhausted.  
  
I rolled on my back, the coolness of the soggy grass penetrated my clothes. Above me, a wide moonless sky was lit by millions of stars. The black foliage of a tree danced on a cool breeze, while my hearing picked up the cacophony of frogs and the monotonous chirping of crickets.  
  
On my right side, a dark structure loomed over me.  
  
It was just next to the spot where I had crawled out of the trench. I rose. My head spinning, I staggered towards it on my hands and knees. My heart felt heavy as stone and my mind warned me for my sanity, for I had an awful premonition of what to expect to see. There, erected behind the heap of broken earth that was no less then a violated grave, stood a headstone, beautifully polished, proud and gleaming, marked with my name.  
  
William August Byron.  
  
14 August 1856 - 13 April 1880.  
  
I shuffled closer, and toughed the indentations of words with trembling fingers, hoping that my eyes had tricked me. But they were truly there. No illusions of the mind.  
  
I had just crawled out of my own grave.  
  
Just as this gruesome discovery became too much for me to bear and was threatening to break my mind, a soft mournful voice spoke to me, and I turned, gazing warily through the dirty strings of hair dangling before my frightened eyes.  
  
"William? Alas.Poor William. I knew him well."  
  
I swallowed, recognizing the elusive and dangerous creature I had encountered in the dark alley. The one I had fought against so desperately but had eventually claimed my life.  
  
She was breathtakingly beautiful.  
  
The lady was clad in a black silken garment, slim by the waist and low cut at the neck, revealing a glimpse of her moon-pale breasts. With her hands gloved and her face veiled by thin black lace, she looked like she was dressed to attend a funeral.  
  
Shifting sensually from one slender hip to the other, she caressed a scar on her skin that ran from her delicate cheekbone to the small base of her collarbone.  
  
"Did you like the flowers I brought you last night?"  
  
She crouched down beside me, the smooth fabric of her dress touching my shivering knees as it shifted. With theatrical elegance, she showed me the flowers, withered white lilies, the broken stems and shrivelled leaves half buried underneath the soil.  
  
"Such a terrible shame. They were such beautiful flowers. Delicate. Radiant. Pure. But everything I touch just withers and dies."  
  
Her face saddened, and though I was still afraid of her I couldn't help but feel pity for this poor deranged creature. She swayed her head slowly, rhythmically, as if she was lost listening to an enchanting song.  
  
"But.you don't have to be afraid my poor beautiful William. You can rest your head on my lap and sleep.hush..sleep.and awake no longer oppressed and dead in your heart but with a freed spirit fuelled by raging fires."  
  
She looked at me. Her mad eyes suddenly a quiet place of infinite clarity. A place where man could find his eternal peace.  
  
"I touched you William. I touched you, but you didn't die. Because of me, you're finally alive."  
  
I shuddered as she reached out to me, soft hands travelling over my neck, caressing the crusted wound she had given me. My fear for her subsided and became nonexistent, as her scent of roses and sweets and her tender caress awoke emotions in me that were as much alike to the feelings of a son to his mother as the lustful adorations of a lover to his mistress. This strange forbidden notion not only frightened me, but also intrigued my mind and senses. I was useless and cared for, wrapped in her arms. I longed for fluid substance, my lips creaked and my throat filled with thirst, but it was neither water nor food I craved. My mind puzzled, I asked her, addressing her correctly without consciously knowing, guided perhaps by the instinct of the beast that was now inside of me.  
  
"Sire." My voice was hoarse and worn. "I need.I need to drink.I need.to feed."  
  
She helped me out of the cemetery (My Sire has such incredible strength for her small slim figure. I stumbled several times for my body seemed to be extremely weakened, but she kept me from falling down every time by grabbing my sturdily by the arms. This dark, desirable creature might be able to lift me up entirely if she wished to! It makes me wonder, what kind of strength I do posses now I've been made into her kind.) to a carriage pulled by a pair of shiny black horses waiting at the gates. The driver opened the door courteously, but in total silence. His face carried an unhealthy pale tan and a thick red scar ran around his neck. As we rode over a narrow road snaking through the meadows, I couldn't help but to stare out of the curtained windows constantly. There was so much my eyes could see, more even than I ever could when travelling under broad daylight. The lightest shift in the tall grass made by any living creature, the fastest of hares or the tiniest fieldmouse, my eyes would catch it and follow its movement with eagle sharp vision. And once we entered London, the deserted streets were suddenly buzzing with activity of night-time creatures. Rats scuttled along the gutters, domestic cats were out hunting prey and somewhere behind a dark obscured alley that we passed on our way, the corpse of a drunken poor was scavenged by hungry dogs.  
  
The entire scene was so very clear that I could see the blood tickling down his sweat stained collar as the beasts ripped open his throat. I trembled with a strange feeling of anticipation as I caught the coppery smell in a gush of wind passing through the chinks of the closed carriage doors.  
  
We halted in front of the gates of a stately mansion with narrow windows. Though it was situated in the middle of London, it had a small front- garden, in which fragrant night-roses blossomed. My Sire took my hand and guided me down the cobble stone path that led to an impressive two doors entrance. As she impatiently knocked on the wood, I noticed the ornaments on the porch roof, little angels in kneeling positions. Their wings had been cut off and from their heads grew two pointy horns.  
  
The doors opened with just an inch, throwing an orange glow over our feet. A face of a young woman appeared, her eyes warily watching my Sire, and observing me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.  
  
My Sire smiled.  
  
"Good evening Anna. I'm late, because I had to stop at the cemetery to collect my pet." She gestured to me, running her gloved finger over my dirty cheeks. "Isn't he wonderful? I sow the seeds and I harvest this amazing gift from the fields. Just like a real butcher would." She laughed madly and clapped in her hands in delight. "Is daddy home yet? I want to show him my William. Don't you think he will be pleased?"  
  
The girl named Anna nodded in a way as if probing how she should respond. Her green eyes observed my appearance; muddy trousers and soiled shirt and coat. My locks dangling from my head in filthy strings. She saw the crusted blood and dirt on my hands and the hideous wound in my neck, and she knew.  
  
"He's perfect milady. I believe he won't end up in the backyard like your previous ones."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~* Next and final part will be posted on Friday the 30th of august. Meanwhile, please let me know what you think of the story so far and provide some feedback. 


	3. Part III

The early years of William the Bloody  
  
  
  
Blood, sex and eternity  
  
  
  
A CHANGE OF SCENES (part III)  
  
  
  
By Richard Bachman  
  
  
  
Anna brought us to a grand drawing room in which a comfortable fire was burning in the fireplace. The chamber was richly furnished, with Persian rugs covering the floor, and dark leather chairs surrounding a gleaming walnut coffee table. Tasteful reproductions of classic Roman statues and tall vases filled with fresh flowers embellishing each empty spot in the room. Three large portraits adorned the walls. One was of the cruel hearted blond beauty I had encountered the night I was turned, and one was of my enchanting Sire, her mysterious exquisiteness captured so truthfully in oil that her eyes seemed to follow me all around the room. Between these two life-sized paintings, just above the mantle of the fireplace, hung the impressive portrait of the master of the mansion; a broad shouldered gentleman with grim eyes and a vindictive smile on his thin lips. I grew morbid with fear as I observed this picture, for this was the same man who had so viciously retaliated on me for setting my Sire on fire. - Damaging his property, what I now fully understood as I looked upon these pictures of both women, exhibited here like proud game trophies of a hunt, owned by him and him alone.  
  
What would become of me now, if that same sickly possessive man found me in his own residence, his desired wife or mistress or whatever my Sire was to him clutching lovingly on my arms?  
  
Perhaps luckily, I did not have much time to ponder over this, for we had barely warmed ourselves by the fire or the glass panelled doors swung open, and the dreaded boogieman himself entered the room. My anxiety dropped a little, as I realized that he was in a cheerful mood, although I still feared that it could just be deceiving. Something in my guts told me that this man was not to be trusted, or one might lose his life by making that fatal mistake.  
  
The tall man embraced my Sire, like a father would do to his daughter. He told her in a light Irish accent how worried he had been about her, since there were only two hours left before sunrise. My Sire giggled loudly and whispered something into his ears. He growled and reached with his hand down underneath her skirt, eliciting delighted moans from her throat as he touched her there where only a husband should reach.  
  
I watched silently, and although I knew should be appalled, I felt my loins stir.  
  
As he kissed her neck with an almost savage lust, his piercing eyes met mine. A sting of panic seized me. He pushed my Sire away from his embrace. His lips curved into a crude grin.  
  
"And this must be that boy ye turned a couple of nights before. Still looks like a piece of dirt to me. Even smells like it."  
  
He approached and studied me as if I was a horse or a cow on sale at a market. His presence was so demanding that I lowered my eyes in submission in an effort to avoid confrontation, just as I had learned during my incarceration in the asylum. He seemed to be pleased with my timidity and concluded with only an offensive joke on my expense.  
  
"Dirt covered in dirt. I wonder how much will be left of him after Anna gives him a good cleaning."  
  
"He's beautiful daddy. You'll see. A ruby hidden underneath crude layers of earth. If I polish him long and hard enough he will be all shiny and sparkly!"  
  
"If ye say so my sparrow. But for now, let the maid try to make something out of him."  
  
He turned away from me, visibly repulsed by my derelict appearance. He himself seemed to be a man of refined taste. He was dressed in a dark green velvet smoking jacket and ash grey trousers. His long hair was kept well tended into a short tail and instead of the scent of liquor and damp earth I had smelled on him nights before, he now wore the fragrant of soap and freshly washed clothing. Compared to this him, I appeared more like a beggar struggling on his last legs.  
  
Anna was called, and although my Sire fist objected, her "daddy" insisted that I would be taken away to be tidied up before she was allowed to play with me, whatever that meant. I followed the housemaid upstairs to the second floor, where she brought me to my room, small and humbly furnished. There was a plain bed, a desk and a chair. A window provided a view outside on the back garden, in which presumably many of my Sire's lost pets could be found. Anna drew the curtains shut, giving me no-other explanation then that it would be dawn real soon. (I wonder if the legends about us are true. I've read in books on Eastern European mythology that people there believe that vampires - for that's what we are, I suspect - cannot stand the light of day and will turn into dust once exposed.) She left for a while before returning and informing me that she had prepared a hot bath and clean towels in the bathroom next door. I was extremely discomfited when she asked me to undress and step into the bathtub so she could clean me. I tried to argue with her. Tell her I preferred to take my bath in privacy and that I haven't been washed by anybody since I was a little boy. She replied coldly that her master had ordered her to perform this task and that she had to obey. Also, it wouldn't be wise for me to act against her master's wishes. Fearing that she was right, I did exactly what the young woman said. With cheeks flushing of utter embarrassment, I stepped into the bath. The steaming water felt hot against my cold skin. I allowed her to rub soap on my back with a raw sponge.  
  
She worked hard on me, her face placid as if this was all perfectly normal, rasping my skin, washing my hair and rinsing off the suds like she was handling a child and not a full grown man. Soon my whole skin was tickling and flushed as badly as my cheeks.  
  
The warm water had an almost intoxicating effect on me. My body felt terribly cold ever since I awoke from death. I guessed this must be natural for I also seemed to lack a heartbeat, which meant that my circulation was stagnant. But now with the warmth of the bathwater infusing into my stiff muscles, I started to feel much better.  
  
The maid bended over me to soap in my chest. Lose curls escaped from the knot of red hair, and dangled in front of her green eyes. She looked as if she might be Irish. The bit of bare skin left uncovered by her collar on her long swan-like neck was fair as cream. I bowed towards her, sensing the warmth radiating from her hot, living body. The scent of her filled my nostrils.  
  
Lavender and sweat.  
  
Tears and blood.  
  
Blood, pumping through every vessel of her body.  
  
I swallowed. My mind straying off on its own, as I swore I could see the life giving fluid spread through her veins and arteries, drawing dark blue branches underneath her translucent skin. Listening quietly, I could hear her heartbeat quicken.  
  
Thirst, that I had forgotten after my Sire took me home to see her lord, came back to me with increased intensity. Not only did it dry out my tongue and throat, but it also left me with a great wanting. An inexplicable desire that was much worse then any heartache I've ever felt before. Worse even then the restrained lust a man can feel for an exquisite woman. But what exactly did I desire?  
  
I felt the skin on my face tighten, wrinkling like a drying prune. Bones were shifting. My brows, my jaw, my cheekbones were moving. Something was changing in me. I felt crude, savage even, like a crooked old tree whipped by the wind.  
  
Her neck.  
  
Her neck was all that I could see and smell.  
  
I cannot recall exactly what had happened after that. Only perhaps that a red haze had suddenly appeared in front of my eyes and that there was this horrific, but also strangely delightful sense of frail bones crushing between my jaws, followed by a sensation of fulfillment, utter and complete.  
  
When I regained full consciousness, I found myself half submerged in tepid fluid tainted the color of aortic blood. Anna's lifeless form sagged over one side of the tub. Ends of her hair waved in the discolored bathwater like bundles of red seaweed, her face sunken with just the tip of her nose breaking the placid surface.  
  
A cloud of dark crimson spread steadily out of a wound at one side of her neck.  
  
"What have you done to my maid, you sick, disgusting little worm!"  
  
I froze. My heart quivered in shock. Not, as I now realize with the notion of guilt for murdering (Yes! I believe I have butchered her!) the poor servant, but with the fact I was caught in this incriminating mess by one of Angelus' women, while I was completely naked as on the day I was born.  
  
The immaculate proud blond stood there in door opening, her face a clear depiction of her deep loathing.  
  
"Do you any idea how difficult it is to find servants who are not afraid to work for us and keep their silence? And how dare you to kill her now, just before sunset? She will stench out the entire house before the day is over and we can move her into the back garden!"  
  
I watched (Frightened, I must admit, although she was of course only a woman.) how she approached and grabbed the dead maid by her hair between two fingers, pulling her out of the water with much splashing. After she discarded the corpse thoughtlessly on the floor, she observed the stains on the white ceramic at the side of the tub and groaned, frustrated.  
  
"You've let the blood soak into the tub."  
  
Her hand reached out, fast and deadly, and grabbed me by my throat, (What is it with these creatures? Why are they so obsessed by handling their victims this particular way?) her slender fingers with carefully polished nails closing around me till it became extremely painful. At that moment, I was very grateful that I didn't need to breath to survive.  
  
The blond observed me with eyes cold and indifferent, as if she was examining an insignificant bug or an annoying blot of dirt on her garment.  
  
"I had just let this bathroom redecorated last month. This bathtub is made of Venetian porcelain, shipped to England all the way from a small workshop in Italy. It's special. It has tiny pores all over the surface to allow the warmth of the bathwater to be absorbed into the tub, keeping the water on temperature for a longer time, and I do like to take my baths nice and hot. The problem with this rather expensive luxury is. "  
  
Her grip around my throat tightened, and I feared my days as a vampire would end tonight for my sometimes intolerable imaginative mind had already pictured her rupturing my vessels with her unwomanly brute strength, making my Sire's blood gush out of my ears.  
  
"Stains don't go out well."  
  
She hissed her last sentence like a snake, air barely escaping through the tiny crack between her lips. I tried to talk, reason with her. Beg her to allow me to pay penance and let me clean up the whole bleedin tub for her, but my words came out strangled. I was captured in deadly panic when I heard footsteps fall heavily behind my would-be executioner. The squeaking of hinges sounded as the bathroom door inched further open and a man spoke up, a hint of amusement sounding in his voice.  
  
"So the boy had his first feed then."  
  
The blond didn't glance over her shoulder, barely even moved.  
  
"Angelus, I'm at the end of my patience here. Your delirious childe should know better. Bringing in these dirty, ill - mannered creatures into my house and causing such troubles! If only you would have the heart or the guts to discipline her better."  
  
"Darla dear, you know she is rather difficult to handle."  
  
"And whose fault is that, you think?"  
  
At last she released me. I gagged and splashed back into the tub, my hands seizing my burning neck.  
  
The blond named Darla watched me struggle with the same impervious frigid posture, then turned to Angelus, suddenly revealing vindictive anger as she looked at him.  
  
"We already have one childe of yours that cannot function on her own. Because of her, we have to sacrifice a lot time and efforts to keep her from just wandering off into the streets by day. I don't need another one that soils our house and drools around like a complete idiot. You take care of him. Either discipline him well so I won't even notice he's here, or destroy him."  
  
You can imagine that I was about to become mad with fear after the coldhearted vixen strolled out of the room, closing the door with a loud bang, and left me there, alone with her spouse.  
  
Angelus seized me out the bath and threw me back into my room. There, he tossed me on the floor like I was nothing more but a discarded piece of clothing, and locked the door behind him.  
  
I was convinced that no one could ever hear me scream inside that tiny space.  
  
"We should talk, lad."  
  
His voice wasn't unpleasant. It was calm, perhaps even fatherly. Still I was trembling.  
  
"There are a few things ye ought to know if we decide that Drusilla is allowed to keep ye."  
  
He paced around the small chamber, his eyes suddenly interested in more then staring at my face. I was startling naked. My skin slippery with soapy bathwater, with red suds dripping down my thighs. Having another man ogling at me while I was this exposed was extremely unnerving and demeaning. I swallowed, and tried to compose myself. Save what was left of my dignity.  
  
"S-Sir I.I didn't mean to um.to eat your servant. Nor did I want to upset your.um.your wife. I d-do apologize."  
  
"Aye, that's the problem William. It is William, isn't it?"  
  
I nodded feverously. He could have called me anything, Billy or Bob or any other name, and still I would have nodded.  
  
"The problem is William, that we're often tempted t' do a lot of things we were not meant t' do. Act first without thinking about the consequences. We vampires are very good at that."  
  
He sat down on the bed, the springs objected loudly against his weight.  
  
His eyes kept gorging on my body, and lingered far too long on my loins. I tried to shield my shame by closing my legs tight. I was still too afraid of unleashing his wrath to explicitly cover it using my hands.  
  
An eerie smile appeared on Angelus' lips.  
  
"Ye're cold lad?"  
  
"No-No Sir."  
  
His stare wandered from my flushed body up to face, my cheeks crimson, my eyes barely able to look back into his for I was too ashamed. He continued his speech as though there wasn't anything peculiar or embarrassing about the situation at all.  
  
"As I said. We vampires can be professional cock-ups. Getting into all kinds of troubles, which could be easily avoided if one had the wit to use one's brains for a change. Let me assure you boy, a fledgling who goes around killing people like a bloody maniac, won't stay a vampire very long."  
  
I nodded eagerly, though I had absolutely no idea what a fledgling was.  
  
"That's why we all need discipline, rules t' live by." He assured me, sounding much like a clergyman or priest, his voice suddenly solemn. "Someone has t' teach these rules t' us. Or otherwise there will be utter chaos. Even I was taught by my mentor, and taught well."  
  
I realized then that perhaps Darla had been more then a wife to him. There was a silent power that the woman possessed over this man, and it wouldn't surprise me if I found out later that the blond was in fact, his Sire.  
  
"The problem here, William, is that your Sire isn't and will probably never be in an adequate state of mind to be able t' tutor ye in our ways. She is absolutely a delightful creature this nightshade of mine, but.well, she is also totally insane."  
  
Angelus chuckled, as if he was sharing a good joke at the pub.  
  
"She won't be able t' teach you anything, unless it's how t' get yourself prematurely killed the second time around, turned into a sweeping pile of dust, carried away by the wind."  
  
"But-But, I'm willing to learn Sir." I said, fearing for my existence. "I don't want to complicate things on your behalf or on the good lady's. Please give me a chance."  
  
My words came out as a desperate plead, although I didn't intend it to be. I guess I was just too struck by fear to control my own emotions. It wasn't wise to show it in front of this ruthless man, for I believed he was a predator who lived and thrived on a other man's misery, feeding on it like I've fed on poor Anna's blood, sucking the life out of his victims. However, for the moment, I was relieved to see him being pleased by my shameless begging.  
  
"That's very good. Ye see William, I've no desire to keep ye around if ye're too insolent to be disciplined. But if ye're willing to adapt."  
  
"I do Sir. I absolutely do."  
  
"Then I'm willing to teach." His crude smile widened into a grin. "And ye'll be allowed t' join our blissful little family."  
  
"I.I would be honored, Sir." I said while inside I repulsed the very thought of being totally subjected to this sickly minded, violent man.  
  
"Very well, William" Angelus stood up from the bed and paced towards me. As his impressive form halted right in front of my shivering knees, I got the impression that I had just whored my body to the devil.  
  
"From now on I will be your mentor."  
  
His hand, strong and large, grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him.  
  
"I own ye now, boy. I own ye, like I own both my women. Ye better not forget that."  
  
I swallowed and nodded again. One day my head will just fall off because of all that senseless nodding. I kept my mind blank on purpose for I was afraid that once I fully understood what he had really meant, I would start to scream, and never be able to stop again.  
  
He left the room. I heard a click of a lock falling into place. Sullenly, I kept sitting on the floor for a very long time, till dim morning-light shimmered through the curtains, indicating that my first frightful night as a vampire was over. I struggled on my feet and stumbled over to the bed. Although I was tensed by anxiety and dread, my eyes felt heavy and as soon as my head rested on the rough linen pillows, I fell asleep. My dreams were vague. I can hardly remember them, which meant that they were thankfully not nightmares involving my new tormentors. I awoke when there was still daylight outside. A thin crack between the curtains revealed a pale blue sky with slices of clouds rimmed with gold drifting by. I wondered bitterly if that's all I will ever be able to see of the day from now on. Draping the blankets around myself in an attempt to regain my modesty, I tried the door, and found it (obviously) locked from the outside. Shortly, I considered breaking it, to bash in the door. (I knew almost for certain that I could do so physically, for my escape out of my coffin, and the impressive display of brutality of my captivators, convinced me that our kind possessed an unnatural strength.) However, the fear for attracting Angelus' wrath withheld me from doing so.  
  
I was once again imprisoned, isolated with only my quickly deteriorating mind as my only company.  
  
Punished.  
  
I sat down at the desk, my mind drowning in total misery. In my boredom and despair, I drew open the drawers, and found, to my amazement, sheets of blank paper, a pot of ink and a pen.  
  
Except for those, the drawers were empty.  
  
In the retreating light of day, I started writing, casting my thoughts on paper, pouring my fears and anxieties on the blank sheets and sealing them in with blue inks, my mind settling down with every word I wrote.  
  
As I opted before, writing is my only salvation, or you'll had been reading the ramblings of a madman by now.  
  
The irony of my situation has not escaped me. At the very moment that my Sire turned me I had believed to be finally saved from the torment of existence. Of fear and endless suffering. Of cruel oppression by others. But in the end, everything just stayed the same. There were different actors. A change of scenes perhaps. But the same play remained.  
  
I dread the nights to come.  
  
  
  
- The END -  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ If you've read the whole lot, why not leave a review to let me know what you think of it? There should be sequel coming up on this one in the near future, right when I got the time to pen it down between my duties to finish my other fics that is. 


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